Girl Talk
by wildnfree21
Summary: Just a random fic about if all the women of RE got together and did some, like the title says, Girl Talk
1. Default Chapter

Chapter One:

"Ow! Geez, Chris, could you watch where you're going!" Claire Redfield exclaimed as her older brother pushed by her.

"Sorry." He replied, swinging the refrigerator door open and peering inside. A puzzled frown crossed his features and he glanced up at his sister. "Um...Claire? Where's the marinade?"

"What marinade?" Claire mumbled, rubbing her elbow, which had scraped against the pointed end of the island bar.

"_The _marinade. _My _marinade. The one I was up half the night making. The one that involves about half a million herbs and spices-some that I can't even pronounce. The one that is my special recipe and that I alone can drive Leon and Carlos crazy with because they still don't know-up to this very day-how to make it."

Claire thought for a moment, her teeth pressing into her bottom lip. "Is that the one that's brown?"

"With just a hint of spicy red-yes." Chris said.

"The one that had the ribs soaking in it?" she continued.

"Yes."

Claire's eyes suddenly widened, as if she just realized the meaning of life. "Oh! The one that was just right in there?" she asked him, gesturing to the bottom shelf of the fridge.

"Yes! Yes! Where is it!" demanded Chris.

Claire gave a shrug. "Beats the hell out of me."

Chris exhaled loudly and leaned against the bar. "Little sister, I am going to count to five. If you are still in here by the time I am finished I swear to you that you will regret the day that you ever set foot on God's green earth."

Before Chris could begin the final countdown to her most certain demise, Claire smiled brightly. "Hi, Jill! When did you get here?"

"Hello." Jill replied, heaving a sigh. "Just now. I had to stop by the store to pick up the ingredients for my fried chicken. Things were just so hectic this week that I did not have the chance to buy any of it." Jill sighed again. "But Sherry loves the stuff, so I figure the trouble is worth it."

Claire nodded and turned around to rummage through the cabinet. It seemed like it was only yesterday that she and the rest (though it was primarily herself) were struggling to help young Sherry Birkin survive the hectic years of teenage angst. There had been a time when she wondered how her father had handled her for so long. All the constant headaches and broken hearts over unfaithful friends, clueless crushes and pressuring classes was almost too overwhelming for her to go through again. But somehow they had survived all of those horrors the same way they had survived the horrors of Raccoon City together.

Now Sherry was a sophomore at a university in the next state and finally blossoming into the woman Claire had assured she would someday be. Thank God for that. The last time she had visited was over the Christmas holidays, when she had regailed the group with her adventures as an experienced second year student: all the cute guys she had met and had asked for her number, her loved and loathed classes, the parties...Sherry had talked a lot about the parties, but had assured the gang that nothing gave her more joy than to return home and have the ultimate party with them, the "traditional" barbeque.

Actually, it was only a barbeque during the warmer months of the year, when it was appropriate to sit outside in the backyard; during the colder seasons it was simply a big cooking event with proportions that rivaled those featured on the Food Network in the Redfield kitchen and then a pigging out fest in front of Chris Redfield's prized big screen television set.

Speaking of the elder Redfield...

Chris heaved a howl of indignation as he shut the refrigerator door and stormed away. "God, where the hell is it?"

Jill cast a questioning glance at Claire.

"Chris can't find his precious marinade." Claire replied in answer to Jill's unspoken inquiry.

Jill's head rose then dipped down and her mouth formed a silent O of understanding. Claire grabbed a big pot from the dishrack and let it sit underneath the running tap. She watched the water fill for a few seconds before glancing up and letting out a startled gasp. Carlos Oliviera's visage was right before her. The man was standing outside at the table beside the BBQ grill with the big tub of Chris's marinade with his own little bowl beside him. It was obvious that he was attempting to recreate her brother's concoction.

Claire shook her head, smiling slyly.

"You're going to be in so much trouble when I tell my brother." Claire half said, half sung in a follow-the-bouncing-ball sing-a-long.

Carlos put his hand to his ear, indicating that he could not hear her.

"Chris is going to _kick your ass_." she repeated, enunciating the last three syllables and illustrating her point by walking the middle and index fingers of her right hand across the flat open palm of her left. She then ended the motion with an elaborate kick off with her right digits.

Carlos scoffed at her make-shift sign language and illustrated his disdain by swatting his hand through the open air in front of him. Then, like a scene out of a horror film, Chris appeared behind him, seemingly out of nowhere. Immediately sensing that something was amiss, Carlos turned around and though she could only see the younger man grasping the back of his head, it was obvious that Carlos had come between the wrong man and his marinade.

Jill laughed as she headed over to the sink to rinse off her frying pan. "Oh, those two." Jill nudged Claire slightly. "Scoot over, would you? I still remember the time when they couldn't really get along."

Claire snorted, "And now, they still can't get along. But they're both so damn endearing, it's like the Odd Couple. An extremely odd couple."

"The oddest." A voice spoke up from behind them.

Claire turned around and gave a nod. "Hey, Rebecca."

Jill glanced back. "Hi, Beck."

Rebecca Chambers took a deep breath as she slid her sweater off of her shoulders. "So, what's happening?"

Claire grimaced. "Same old, same old. Carlos is trying to steal away the _secret _formula for Chris's _secret _recipe." she explained, waxing on a diabolical mad scientist voice.

Rebecca shook her head. "They don't ever stop, do they?"

"Doesn't seem like it." Jill put in.

Claire hoisted her pot of water onto the gas stove and turned on the burner. There was a burst of orange flame that flared up then receded with a hint of shimmering blue at its base. That reminded her that there was only one last person to account for in the preparation process.

"I guess now all we need is Leon." she spoke up.

Rebecca frowned. "Leon? I thought he was already here. His car is right outside."

Jill perked up at the mention of Leon's attendance. "Rebecca's right. Leon's car is parked right in the middle of the driveway like he owns the place."

"Really?" Claire mused, looking puzzled. "That's strange. Because I've been here all morning and I haven't seen hide nor hair of him."

"Oh, that's too bad. There isn't a woman in town who would miss a chance to have a peek at his hide." Rebecca teased her.

Claire rolled her eyes. She dried her hands on a towel before heading out of the kitchen to begin a full area search of the premises. Before she left she turned abruptly, "Hey, Beck. Are you going to start on your ziti right now?"

"No, not at the moment." Rebecca said, stretching her arms.

"Good. Then you can cut up the carrots for my salad." Claire replied.

"What? But-but I hate cutting carrots." grumbled Rebecca.

"I know. So do I. But I called you on it first so tough luck." Claire teased. She made a move to leave but turned around again as if to add one last thing. "Make sure they are cut thin and small so that no one chokes on them."

Rebecca shivered as she turned to face the ominous pile of unpeeled, uncut carrots.

Claire headed to the front door just to verify if Jill and Rebecca's allegations were true. Indeed, Leon's Jeep was parked right smack in the middle of the Redfield driveway, raised arrogantly above the other cars. It was strange how Leon could make his presence known simply by parking his car. Claire searched the living room and the basement before venturing upstairs in search of answers to the disappearance of Leon Kennedy.

The bathroom was empty and he wasn't in any of the bedrooms but just as she neared the den area, she heard distinctive proof that Leon was occupying that particular room. The sound could have woke the dead with its loud, gurgling pitch. The snores only intensified as Claire opened the door and peered into the darkness. On the couch with a bunch of DVDs in his hands was Leon's sleeping form.

Giving an insulted scoff, Claire marched over to Leon and shook himvigourously.

"Excuse me, officer, but get up!" she shouted.

"Wha? What's going on?" Leon exclaimed, his eyes flying open and his hand grabbing onto her wrist. "I'm awake!"

"Ugh, let go!" Claire groaned, the grip of Leon's hand alone could have crushed about five walnuts and was cutting off the circulation to her arm. "Leon, you're hurting me."

Leon relinquished his hold and gazed up at her bleary-eyed. "What happened, did you set the kitchen on fire?"

"No, we've all been downstairs starting on the food-and you're up here _sleeping!_" Claire paused for a moment before barging on. "And what do you mean, did I set the kitchen on fire?"

Leon shrugged, rubbing his eyes. "Sorry about that. I guess I must have fallen asleep. I came up here to look for something to watch while we were cooking and I guess the caffeine rush was dying out and..." he grinned up at her. "You can't blame me for being tired on account of my duties, can you?"

Claire ignored his puppy dog eyes and massaged the pulsing in her arm. "Whatever. Look, why don't you just get downstairs-Sherry should be coming in a little while, Jill, Rebecca, and I have already started on our dishes, Chris and Carlos will eventually start to barbeque the ribs and hot dogs just as soon as Chris finishes grilling the guy about how if he ever tries to steal his marinade he'll kill him-"

"Wait a minute, Carlos tried to get Chris's secret recipe?" Leon interrupted her.

Claire gave a nod.

"That bastard." Leon interjected, rising with deliberance.

"I know, all he's doing is making things complica-" Claire began.

"He _stole _my idea!" Leon exploded. He threw up his hands and started out for the stairs. "Wait until I get my hands on that sick son of a-"

Claire exhaled so forcefully that her bangs flew up then fluttered back down onto her forehead, shielding her eyes with the individual auburn strands. "The sheer indignity of it all." she muttered to no one in particular before she followed Leon down the steps back into the kitchen.

Upon entering the kitchen, she caught the last bit of Rebecca's statement of, "Leon, Claire wants you to cut up these carrots."

"Sorry, Rebecca." Leon replied. "But I currently have an appointment to bust a cap in Oliviera's ass."

Jill looked up from her flour and mustard mixture that she was currently smothering her chicken with. "What did he do this time."

Leon sniffed disgustedly. "He is the most deceitful jackass. He stole my idea to steal Chris's marinade."

The door flew open and Chris charged in. "Can you believe that deceitful jackass?"

"Who?" Leon asked innocently.

"Carlos. He tried to steal my marinade."

The girls stopped whatever they were doing to watch the followingdialogue the two men picked up.

First, Leon's eyes widened in disbelief. "No."

"Yes." Chris spat out. "He tried to copy it-in my own house!"

"No!" Leon repeated.

"Yes!" Chris fumed.

Carlos stuck his head in through the door. "Okay, first of all, I was _outside_, alright? So you can just quit with the violated act because you're only going for the shock value of it all."

Chris recoiled at him. "You get out. You are currently not allowed in my sights at the moment."

"Oh, come-" the rest of his outraged was lost as he slammed the door and paced the backyard.

The room was silent before Leon slowly spoke up. "So...he tried to copy it, huh? Um...did he-did he-"

"No. Thank God." Chris sighed. "At least it's safe for now."

"Yeah..." Leon nodded his agreement with a strange smirk on his face. Claire made a mental note thatthecontorted expression he wore made him look a little like the Grinch."Yeah."

Chris headed to one of the drawers and started to rifle through it before pulling out two tongs and a basting brush. He headed outside with the utensils but stopped in front of Leon. "You know, Kennedy. You're a good man. You're probably the only one I can trust with my pride and joy. I think when I die, I'll leave you the recipe in my will."

"Really?" Leon whipped around to Rebecca. "Rebecca, you're the doctor, when is Chris gonna die?"

Claire kicked at his ankle.

The door flew open once again. "That isn't fair!" Carlos exploded. "I would never have even attempted to copy the marinade if _Leon _hadn't put the idea in my head." He spoke so fast that his accent caused all the words to link together but the gist of what he said got through. Chris turned defensively on Leon.

Claire groaned and joined the other two girls as the three men continued to rant for the next five minutes. Eventually, the only solution was for Chris to give the two a healthy dose of the silent treatment while they both stood at a distance from him and watched as he basted the meat himself.

The tension ended the moment they heard a car pull up to the house and the horn honk repeatedly.

"There she is!" Jill called out to the boys.

Sherry laughed spritely as she sat on the couch with Jill, Rebecca, and Claire. She had been there forabout an hour helping the girls prepare the rest of their food and it was now all either boiling on the stove top, baking n the oven or being fried outside by one of the men.

"So, Sherry, anything interesting happening in your life?" Claire asked, twirling a lock of Sherry's long blonde hair as if she were still a little girl.

Sherry's bright blue eyes brightened considerably and she made a little jump. "As a matter of fact, there is!"

Claire sat up a little straighter. "Well? Tell all."

She expected Sherry to go into a dreamy description of some extremely hunky teacher or incredibly wild guy or at least something that would give the three of them to giggle over while the guys worked wearily outside. But that wasn't what she or any of them would talk about for the time being.

"I have this incredible class that I'm taking for my psychology major." Sherry exclaimed.

"Oh." All three of them seemed noticeably deflated but that did not seem to bother Sherry one bit.

She continued. "The first semester we were studying all these different things-right now I can't remember all of them, I blocked them out, but now we're delving into the psychology of..." There was a lot of other scientific terms before she said, "So how about it girls, do you ever have any rape fantasies?"


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two:

"_What _fantasies?" Jill's head spun around as if it were on ball-bearings.

"Rape fantasies." Sherry replied simply. "In class we learn that all women have them."

Claire tried to hide a snicker but ended up snorting anyway. "Sherry, when did colleges start using Cosmopolitan and Glamour for course studies?"

Sherry rolled her eyes with a coy smile. "Come on, I'm being serious. I think it's incredibly interesting. That something so terrifying-something that we're suppose to fear, is actually fantasized about."

Rebecca shook her head. "Really, Sherry, what kind of self-respecting woman would even think about such a thing?" she gave a shudder. "It's disgusting."

Sherry gave an awkward shrug and squeezed her knees with her palms. "O...kay. I guess I've found the three women who don't have them." She gave another uncomfortable glance around before holding up her hands. "Okay, alright. Maybe rape is too strong a word for today... but it's said that all women have a fantasy about being dominated by..." Sherry trailed off again and looked frustrated at the lack of understanding that was happening to women that she usually felt she could tell anything to. "Oh come on!" she burst out. "What's with the holier-than-thou attitude? Trust me, it isn't a big deal if you think about it once in awhile."

Sherry looked from Claire, Rebecca, and Jill in sequence.

"Claire?" she asked.

Claire pulled her legs up underneath her and leaned her elbow onto the couch. "Gee, Sherry, I don't know. Maybe later." she laughed softly and shook her head, unable to take the surreal-ness of it all. She glanced to Rebecca and Jill before quickly adding, "But for the record, no woman ever wants to be raped."

Sherry sighed and clicked her tongue before turning to Claire's left. "Rebecca?" she prompted.

Rebecca didn't look very severe, she might have even been amused by Sherry's openess but she pursed her lips together. "I don't really think this is an appropriate topic to be talking about right now."

Claire watched as Sherry exhaled heavily, looking wounded. "None of you are seeing the research value of it all!" she turned to Jill. "What about you, Jill. You're the oldest. Surely with all your experience , you're open-minded enough to have an intelligent conversation about this..."

Jill looked at Sherry skeptically. "Oh, so intelligent conversation is what you're after here?"

Sherry nodded. "Uh, sure. We can call it that. If you really wanted to I could add you in for my paper on the issue."

Jill gave a laugh, "Don't you dare! What I'm about to tell you three-" she pointed her finger at all three of them. "Is completely confidential."

Both Claire and Rebecca's heads turned to look at her with equal parts disbelief and amusement.

"No one outside this room is privy to it." Jill finished.

Sherry laughed and clapped her hands together. "I always knew you were the most fun, Jill." She pulled her legs underneath her and hugged a pillow to her chest.

Claire couldn't hold back her laughter. "I can't believe you're doing this."

"Claire, you may want to go outside for this." Jill told her.

"Why?"

"No reason. It's just the subject that we're about to discuss might have some material that may be a little hard for you to take."

Claire scoffed as she got up to go the fridge. "Oh, right. Like I'm not mature enough to handle it." she pulled out a bottle of water and looked back at Jill. In an almost mocking tone she said, "What is it, your fantasy is about Chris or something?"

Silence from Jill. Claire's eyes widened.

"Oh my God. It is, isn't it?" Claire had to hold back the desire to gag. "Well, like that's unexpected."

She had never been to Hawaii before. The beautiful white sands, the gorgeous sunsets and the awesome surf was more than Jill had ever dreamed of. Her first intention was to just spend the entire time on the beach, tanning her skin to perfection...but Chris Redfield had other plans.

"So, once we get to the top of this mountain, we're going to _what?" _Jill asked him as her hand grabbed above her head to pull her body up the rocky, almost completely vertical terrain.

"Paraglide." Chris replied cockily, a good five feet above her in his ascent. "Have you ever been?"

Jill gritted her teeth and strained to pull herself up. "No." she wanted to say something more scathing, but at the moment she was a couple of hundred feet in the air, hanging on to nothing but crumbling rock with a cable to protect her from a fall. She figured she need all her concentration and could save the witticisms for later.

Another fifteen minutes past of grunting and climbing when Chris looked down at her. "We're not that much farther from the top, Jill." he informed her.

Jill's response was something between a gasp for breath and a "great" but she couldn't repeat it when Chris asked her what she had said.

"I have to hand it to you, Valentine. You're doing pretty good for a first-timer."

"Uh-huh." Jill replied. "Chris, do you think we can hold off the conversation until we get to the top and unload the gear?"

"Oh, sure." Chris said.

It took some doing but finally, after a few more snagged toes and scraped hands, Jill and Chris had made it to the top.

"Where's my water?" Jill grumbled as she searched through her bag.

"Jill, come on, takea look at this view." Chris urged her.

"In a second." she told him.

"Come on, just look at it and tell me that this climb was better than just lying on your back all day and raising your risk for skin cancer."

Jill gave a laugh. "Chris, you have dragged me into a hell of a lot of things before this, but this one tops them all. I never thought I would spend my Hawaiian _vacation _straining my muscles and endangering my life just to climb and float off a stupid rock that-oh..." Through out her tirade, Jill had forced her buckling thighs up from her seat on the ground, bustled over to Chris-her eyes full of fire and indignation, which immediately died once she saw what he was talking about.

The view _was _extraordinary. They were so high up they could see halfway across the island. The verdant, rolling hills and sugarcane fields stretched out below them a hundred feet down. From a place where she could see the waves of the ocean crashing into the jagged rock formations Jill imagined that there was a thunderous sound in the area...but up here, up here one could hear nothing. There was only the silence. Only the silence that pressed against one's body like the high pressure and altitude pressed into one's ears.

"Oh God...this _is_ gorgeous."

Chris grinned. "And?"

"And... totally worth the aching bones and muscles I'll have in the morning." Jill said, still looking at the view in awe.

"I told you." Chris replied smugly.

"How do _you _know about this, Redfield?" Jill asked him. "You don't strike me as the type of guy that goes mountain climbing all the time."

"A friend of mine that was in the Air Force now owns a paragliding tour. He told me about it." Chris replied.

"A tour?" Jill asked, puzzled. "Well, why aren't we going with them?"

Chris shrugged. "I don't know... I just wanted to be alone with you I guess."

Jill snorted and looked at him. "We're alone plenty of times."

"No, not like this." Chris told her. "This is different."

The way he said that, the intensity in his voice and in his eyes suddenly caused Jill's legs to give out and she crumpled to the ground.

"Jill! Are you okay?" Chris asked her.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I guess the altitude's getting to me." Jill told him. "I'm a little light-headed."

Chris nodded, his hand rubbing her back. "I can understand how the altitude and pressure can cause people to do things..."

That damn tone that he had before was back; Jill looked at him, her brow in a creased frown.

Chris cleared his throat. "You know...things they wouldn't normally do."

"Oh really? Like what?" Jill asked him.

So quickly she almost didn't realize it was happening, Chris's lips were on her own. A surprised groan escaped from Jill's throat and when her mouth opened, Chris's tongue pressed into her. His hands were pressing into her shoulders but she managed to push him away.

"Chris! What are you doing?"

"Oh, Jill..." he pushed her down, immune to the protests and shoves that she dished out and was caressing her all over.

The heat from the sun made her head spin, or maybe it was only Chris-Jill didn't know what was happening but before she was aware of it, Chris had worked her tight-fitting top off and had insinuated his hands into her tights.

"God, Chris," Jill gasped, not sure whether she had started a prayer or a protest. "This isn't right."

"But it feels good, doesn't it?" Chris asked her, pulling her tights down around her ankles and pressing his sex against hers. With a spasm, he repeated, more forcefully, "Doesn't it?"

"Yes." Jill spat out, angry at how he had the power to do this to her. How she was somehow unable to think clearly, angry at how she didn't want him to stop.

And then he was inside her, moving in a strange rythym that was both painful and gentle to her.

"Oh, God, stop! Stop! Stop!"

Ironically, that last protestation wasn't part of the fantasy, but Claire Redfield's desperate scream as she covered her ears with her hands.

"Oh God, I can't take this anymore!" she whined. "I'm going to be sick."

Rebecca looked thoughtful. "He does look pretty hot in tight-fitting shorts."

"I wish I was an alcoholic." Claire said. "Then I would have been able to drinkaway what you just said."

Sherry nodded, "You know, I never thought about it before, but he does."

"And that, too." Claire said, blinking rapidly.

Jill laughed, "Sorry Claire, I did warn you."

"Yeah, yeah." Claire said, shivering slightly. She took a long gulp of her water.

Sherry straightened up. "So, who's going next?"

A light mist erupted from Claire's mouth as the water she drank had trouble deciding whether to continue down the wrong tube or go up her nose.

"Anyone as long as they don't fantasize about Chris again." Claire told Sherry.

Sherry nodded to Rebecca. "Okay, while Claire calms herself down...Rebecca, you're next."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three:

Rebecca inhaled then exhaled deeply. She glanced at the two expectant faces in front of her and then at Claire who was pretending to busy herself with her stir-fry on the stovetop. She smiled to herself and imagined that Claire was still trying to shake Jill's fantasy from her mind. She actually didn't blame her, as it was, if it were _her_ brother that was being fantasized about, she would probably have been scarred for life as well.  
However, Rebecca had been an only child. She had grown up lonely and longing and wishing for peer companionship instead of the constant academic competitions and special lessons that her parents had signed her up for. She had never quite found anyone whom she could share feelings and life's trivial details with. Perhaps that was why she felt compelled to tell such a personal (and potentially embarrassing) daydream with the women in front of her.   
"Alright." Rebecca sighed. "But you have to promise you won't laugh."  
"Fine." Sherry and Jill replied in unison, their enthusiasm rivaling that of middle school girls at a slumber party.   
"_And _you have to promise you will not tease me about it forever." She added pointedly at Claire.  
Claire gave her a smile and shrugged. "Of course, 'Becca. You have my word."  
A blank stare was all she could give to Claire's response.  
"What? I just told you I wouldn't laugh at you."  
"I know. But sometimes you're so sarcastic I don't know when you're actually saying what you mean."  
Claire let out a laugh and sighed. "Sorry for living."  
Jill looked thoughtful for a moment before a smile broke out over her face. "Wait a minute! Rebecca, you're fantasy isn't about Carlos is it?"  
Heat spread all through Rebecca's body as she was caught off guard at the accusation.   
"Um…no…" she sputtered, feeling herself blush all over. "No, it's not."  
"Really, Rebecca?" Sherry interrupted. "The O-man?"  
Despite how flustered she was, Rebecca had to laugh. "The O-man? That's something new."  
Sherry shrugged. "Sexy men deserve a sexy nickname, right?"  
"I'm not sure about that but…okay, fine. Yes, I do fantasize about Carlos."  
Then, in complete violation of the covenant they had made, all three of her companions broke into raucous, unbridled laughter.   
Rebecca's forehead creased and a frown darkened her usually cheery visage. "You guys…are bitches." She said matter-of-factly.   
"We're sorry, Rebecca." Sherry said, trying to suppress her giggles. "We're laughing with you, trust me."  
"I wasn't laughing, in case you didn't notice." She said, but her lips fought valiantly not to turn upwards.

The train sped quickly along the tracks, all scenery outside swirling together until it reminded one vaguely of a Monet masterpiece. Rebecca sat in one of the seats, alternating her gaze between the wilderness outside and the mystery novel in her hands. Unable to decide which one was giving her the bigger headache, she set the book down and closed her eyes against the motion sickness that started to churn in the pit of her stomach.   
She twisted and turned for a couple of minutes before she let out an anguished sigh and held her head in her hands.  
"Try looking at something far away." An accented voice spoke up from beside her.  
Rebecca glanced up and saw the sexiest man standing, towering above her. His smile was more of a sensuous smirk and something dangerous danced behind his eyes.   
"Thank you." She replied, grateful that she didn't stammer nervously. "I'll…I'll give it a try."  
He lingered about for a few moments longer and Rebecca did not know whether he was waiting for her to try out his remedy or actually wanted to say more to her. Finally, he leaned over her and asked, "May I sit here." He gestured to the empty seat next to her.  
Rebecca smiled and nodded, not bothering to add that even if there were someone occupying the seat she would have removed him or her immediately. He squeezed into the seat, his muscled frame taking up most of the space and looked at her again. Her stomach leapt up into her chest. No one had ever looked at her the way he was looking at her.   
"What is your name?" he asked her. Rebecca froze.   
"R-Rebecca." She replied, annoyed that the feared sputter now betrayed her voice.   
"Ah, beautiful senorita." He complimented. "I am Carlos."  
God help her, it was like being hit on by Antonio Banderas. 

"Someone's been watching _The Mask of Zorro_ again." Claire muttered.  
"Shut up, Claire." Sherry and Jill snapped and then turned back to Rebecca, completely enthralled.  
"I love Antonio Banderas." Sherry said. "But if you end up like Catherine Zeta-Jones after the swordfight, I'm just going to kill you."  
As if she hadn't been interrupted, Rebecca continued.

If her tongue hadn't been cemented to the roof of her mouth, she might have let out a deranged half-giggle, half-guffaw.   
Carlos seemed unaware of her nervousness, if he was then he didn't let on. He asked her questions, his voice completely sexy and honey-coated the more he went on.  
"You are traveling far from home, yes?" he asked.  
Rebecca nodded.  
A roguish grin spread over his lips. "Business…or pleasure?"  
"Yes." She said mindless, then shook her head. "I mean…neither…I'm just… I mean…I have to go the restroom. Excuse me."  
She climbed out of her seat and maneuvered around Carlos trying not to wonder if he was looking at her butt or wanting him to be looking at it. She made her way feeling almost as if she were drunk (and probably looking like it too) to the restroom at the end of the train's compartment. Shutting herself inside she sat down hard on the closed toilet seat and breathed heavily. Her heart pounded wildly and she felt a strange sensation between her legs.  
A few minutes past by with her just sitting, vainly trying to calm down. 'Relax,' she told herself and stood up. She held herself against the wall and ran cold water from the faucet to her face. The door suddenly opened and Rebecca realized in a panic that she had neglected to lock it.   
"I am sorry." Carlos said, not sounding as if her were sorry at all. He wore an expression of mingled disappointment and confusion. As if he expected her to already be undressed for him. "You were just taking a while and I was wondering if you were alright."  
"Well, I…I was just about to come out." Rebecca said lamely, and then stiffened as she felt Carlos's hand caressing her waist.  
Rendered speechless, she felt Carlos moving closer to her, his lips ten inches, five inches…one inch…and then contact. A groan escaped her as he pressed against her body causing the pressure down below to increase. Forgetting the fact that this man was virtually a stranger (as the fantasy made him to be), Rebecca responded to every wet kiss or heated grope. However putty-minded she had been before, that trait was lost now. Though she had always been inexperienced she knew where to move and what to do.  
Her mind went blank, as a high I.Q. was not likely to instruct her that now was the right time to tilt her pelvis upward so Carlos had easier access to her jeans. Nor would it tell her to kiss his forehead and simultaneously grip strands of his sleek hair in her hands while he concentrated on freeing her from the constraints of faded taut denim. He forced them down to her ankles and Rebecca struggled to kick her shoes off.   
Barely waiting for her to complete the task, Carlos threw her jeans aside and greedily kissed and sucked her neck. She thought she knew when to expect him inside her but he gave no telltale sign or warning. He entered her without waiting for introduction or permission and immediately set the rhythm he expected her to follow.  
The intensity rose quickly and Rebecca lost herself. The last thing she could recall was her heated bottom thumping against the cool porcelain sink, her left leg propped on the tank of the toilet and her other wrapped around Carlos's hips.

Rebecca smiled impishly as she looked around at everyone. Claire was looking surprised, as if she did not expect this from the medical school prodigy. Jill and Sherry were both staring wide-eyed at her, their expressions vacant, their minds far and away.   
"Well…the end." She said with a shrug.  
"Wow." Sherry said breathlessly. "Where did you come up with that?"  
"Years of suppressed imagination and frustration." Rebecca replied lazily as she set herself back against the couch.   
Claire laughed and took another sip of water. "As an English major I have to tell you I loved all the symbolism with the train and all. Any dark, dank tunnels you encounter?"  
"Oh, several, at least three." Rebecca told her.  
As if his entrance were timed, the back door opened and Carlos (the O-man) came in.   
"Hey, Carlos." Rebecca's companions greeted him in a cheery, singsong voice. It couldn't have been more obvious if they had simply told him flat out, 'We were just talking about you!'  
"Hello ladies." Carlos said but didn't say more. He looked around the kitchen and then said, "Do you know where the other meat Chris wanted to grill is?"  
"Right there." Jill said meaningfully, pointing to the counter.  
"Thank you," he said, picking up the bowl and heading out. "Chris has stopped his silent treatment and is now giving me the supreme honour of kissing his ass."  
"And what's Leon doing?" Claire asked.  
"He gets to clean out Chris's AK-47." Carlos replied grumpily, pronouncing _Chris's AK-47_ as if it were the title of a children's book he were about to read to a group of eager first graders.  
"Oh, poor you."  
"Well, see you ladies," Carlos said as he opened the door.  
"Hey, Carlos," Claire called.  
"Yes?" He asked, peeking back in.  
"Stay out of train tunnels." She advised while the room filled with the tension of suppressed laughter.  
"Right." He said, a look on his face that depicted he thought that the younger Redfield was just as quirky as the elder.  
Rebecca flushed slightly but shook it off. "Alright, Claire, you're so smart and cocky—"  
"Really? I had thought you would say that to Carlos." She replied lightly.  
"Whatever. So what do you fantasize about?"  
Claire froze and looked out the window. Cruel irony would have it that she had a clear view past Chris and Carlos to Leon.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four:

Silence had its reign in the living room, the muffled sounds of arguing slipped in from outside but not much else. Claire looked out the window in deep thought. After the rest of the women in the house had shared their personal fantasies, it seemed only fitting that she contribute something as well. However, she had never actually _said_ she would share anything with them. Claire smiled to herself as she considered wet blanketing the banter by telling them she had nothing to say…as much as a lie as it might be…

With one final glance at Leon, she turned to her companions and shrugged. "Sorry, girls. But I really don't have any sick fantasies like the rest of you."

Jill blew a raspberry and pointed a finger at Claire, "You are such a liar."

Claire held up her hands in a defensive stance. "Hey, I never said I would play this spin-the-rapist game. Can I help it that I have normal sexual desires?"

Rebecca rolled her eyes. "This from Sorority Sister 69."

"I was never in a sorority." Claire retorted, glaring at her.

"Come on, Claire," Jill said, standing up and crossing the carpet. She paused beside Claire and leaned over the counter to gaze nonchalantly out the window. "Either you share your fantasy—or we'll be forced to talk about how _hot_ Chris looks in biker shorts."

Claire smirked at them. "I think I'm immune to that image by now."

"Or a leopard print bikini." Rebecca threw in.

"I'm ignoring you." Claire told her.

"And a leather collar with the word DADDY on it." Sherry contributed.

There was an uncomfortable silence as the three of them looked at Sherry with dangerous curiosity.

Jill cleared her throat. "Okay, Sherry, now that's a bit much."

"Sorry."

"Oh, come on, Claire," Jill said, giving her a push. "Spill."

"No." Claire said.

"What's the big deal?" Jill asked. "It stays between us girls. No one else will know."

The door opened and who should come in but Leon, looking slightly annoyed and setting the AK-47 down on the island.

"Impeccable timing." Claire muttered.

Leon's frown went from the door through which he had just entered then straight to Claire. "Claire, I'm going to kill your brother. I just thought you should know."

Claire laughed. "Good luck. I've tried. He just gets right back up again. He's worse than a zombie that way."

"Oh my God!" Sherry said suddenly. "It's Leon, isn't it, Claire?"

Claire's eyes darted straight to the young girl sitting on the sofa, a look of cobra venom in her glare. Leon, unaware of the discussion of the hour, took the outburst in stride and said cheerily, "Very good, Sherry. That college education sure is paying off! Now, who's that sitting next to you right there?" he pointed to Chambers.

Sherry looked at her briefly. With nervous uncertainty she answered, "Rebecca?"

"By God!" Leon turned to Claire. "She's brilliant. Simply genius." He ruffled Sherry's hair playfully. "She gets it from me, you know." He informed them.

"Yes, we're all so proud." Jill said, giving Claire a pointed look. Her eyes moved from Claire to Leon and then her eyebrows waggled mischievously.

"What do you want, Leon?" Claire asked, looking witheringly at Jill. "A knife?"

"How did you know?"

"Lucky guess." Replied Claire. She grabbed a knife from the dish rack and handed it to him. "But please, bring it back…I'll be needing it later."

Leon took hold of it as if it were a precious artifact. "Sure thing, beautiful."

Claire tried to force her smile back but she didn't do a very good job. Once Leon disappeared out to the yard, the whole room broke out into giggles.

"That's so sweet, he thinks you're beautiful." Rebecca sang.

"Jealous, Rebecca?" Claire asked.

"Oh, look, she's blushing!" Sherry exclaimed.

"No, I'm not." Claire insisted. "And be careful, remember I'm getting that knife back from Leon later—"

"Oooooh, from Leeeeoooonnn!" the three sang out in a truly annoying fashion.

Growling deep in her throat, Claire snapped, "God, just shut up. Maybe my fantasy is about Leon—and maybe it isn't. The fact of the matter is that none of you will ever know because I'm not saying."

Normally, Claire would not have responded to such immature behaviour. However, after almost ten minutes of endless kissy-faces and five off-key choruses of "Claire-and-Leon-sitting-in-a-tree" she cracked.

"Alright, alright! Stop it! I'll tell you." Claire surrendered. "And learn to harmonize. You sound like dying cats."

From the moment Claire turned on the radio and heard an old Beatles song blast from the speakers, she knew it was a dream. The bleary, threatening film around the edge of her vision and the heaviness she felt was one way she knew. The certain heaviness and uselessness of her body was another. That and the fact that she had had this particular dream about a million times before.

In the dream she would turn on the radio, drive home from her exhausting day at work—a waitress at a diner in town where the clientele consisted mostly of senior citizens who could have easily been her grandfathers (though that didn't stop them from hitting on her)—and pull herself up to her room.

He would be there. Against all reason, good sense, and time past saying that it couldn't be, he would be there. Though he had died on Rockford Island, perished at the hands of Alexia Ashford, he would somehow be in her bedroom, leaning against her wall. His attention was mostly focused on the yard outside her window but eventually his eyes would drag themselves to meet hers.

A strangled yelp escaped her chest as her heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach. Shock, guilt, a whole mess of feelings engulfed her as she tried to comprehend his presence.

Finally, uncertainly, she would choke out a faint, "Steve?"

With eyes that were dark, full of quiet anger, he answered "Hello, Claire." A slight pause. "Surprised to see me?"  
Claire swallowed hard, fighting against the urge to pass out or break into hysterics. This wasn't happening. It just wasn't possible. She turned her back to him and took a deep breath. _He's not there. He's not there._ She repeated to herself over and over again. As if by this mantra the haunting would stop. _He can't be there. He's dead. You didn't want him to die, but he did. Get over it._

"What's the matter, Claire?" she heard him ask. Just the sound of his voice, ringing so clearly in her ears was enough to cause a severe shudder in her lungs and a frantic, disbelieving laugh escaped her. "Hard to believe you'd find me here, after you ditched me on that miserable island?"

Vigorously, Claire shook her head, still not facing him. Words struggled to be heard but all died when they tried to escape her paralyzed lips.

"You promised me we'd get out, remember?" Steve prompted. He had started taking deliberate, calculated steps toward her, she could feel the cold from his body radiating onto her back. "You promised we would make it out alive—together…you lied."

"Steve, no. I didn't…I mean…" she exhaled, tears welling up in her eyes as she remembered those words that she had so confidently spoken to him. She had promised they'd get out but she _hadn't_ been lying. She stupidly believed that they would make it. She had assumed that since she had gotten out of Raccoon City with Sherry in tow, she could get a capable teenager out of a mutant infested island. But she had been wrong. And now she was paying for it.

"All those times you said we would survive…" from his tone, Claire could sense he was shaking his head. "You were just planning on getting yourself out. That's all you ever really cared about."

"No—no! It wasn't like that! I really thought—"

"Face it, Claire—all you cared about was finding your brother and getting back to the way your life used to be. Your own selfish reasons. You never gave a damn about who you left behind or who you had to lose!"

"Shut up! _Shut up! _Just leave me alone!" Even with her hands clenched over her ears to drown out the world, she still heard her own straining scream.

Before a breath could even be taken, she felt his hand clamp over her arm and throw her across the room. Slamming into her bed, her legs gave out and she slumped to the carpet, her head reeling. Steve's fingers gripped her hair and nearly pulled it out of its roots as he threw her onto the mattress.

"Steve, please! Please don't do this!" she pleaded as a swirl of hands and spidery fingers covered her body.

"You shut up." Steve spat at her. "You deserve this suffering."

And there would be pain. Though it was a dream there would still be pain. Violation. Helplessness. Crying. More of the last than anything else.

There was one night where the nightmare was at its worst. Claire had screamed herself awake, practically fallen out of bed and lay trembling beneath the covers. She tried to muffle her sobs in her pillow but they couldn't be contained.

_Why? Why, why, why! _She agonized over and over. What had she ever done in her lifetime to deserve such torture? To be assaulted nightly by a ghost that wouldn't go away? The dark enveloped her and she shrank against its suffocating heat. How long she had been crying and curling herself into her arms she did not know. Her eyes were shut tight against what might be around her so she barely noticed when her door opened and someone entered the room.

Whoever it was hesitated at the door for only a split second before entering and sitting beside her. "Claire?" a voice and a touch on her back. She leapt away from both, coiling herself like a serpent.

"I'm sorry." She whispered.

"Sorry?" the visitor repeated. "Claire, there's nothing to be sorry about. It's me, Leon."

At the sound of his name she dared to peek out from her fortress of blankets. Indeed, Leon was there. His eyes tired and his shoulders slumped from fatigue but still there.

"Leon?" she stuck herself out from her blanket cave and moved toward him.

"Claire? What's wrong?" The concern in his voice was awful. It made her insides burst and she collapsed into a fit of tears before she even reached his arms.

Words escaped her companion for the time being so he just held her in his arms and let her cry. His hands gently stroked her back and hair in a non-threatening way and the intimacy would be soothing despite the horrid visions still playing in her mind.

Some time would pass before her tears would subside but only when they did would Leon prompt for an explanation. In abrupt, choppy sentences attempting to be vague, Claire would tell him. About Steve, the things he said, the things he did…Leon would listen, a strange, almost angry look in his eyes that he was successful to hide for the most part.

"Claire," he said when she had finished. "Steve never…he never _did_ anything to you, did he?"

Claire flinched. Steve had been a bit of a wise-ass and high on the testosterone gauge but he had essentially been harmless to her.

"No."

Leon nodded, relief passing through his posture. "Good. Because I would have killed him myself if he did."

Claire looked at him guiltily. "That doesn't make me feel any better Leon…" she told him. "…you think it's my fault that he died, don't you?"

Leon looked shocked but shook his head. "No, Claire, no!" he exclaimed. "I don't think that at all. I wasn't thinking when I said that about him. Damn, I wish I hadn't said anything."

The sheepish look on his face made her smile despite the heaviness she felt in her heart. Feeling tired, she settled down on her stomach and took a deep breath.

"I wish you wouldn't beat yourself up over this." Leon told her. She felt his fingers running through her hair again. "A face as pretty as yours should be smiling all the time."

Claire chuckled humourlessly. "If only." She sighed. "I could stand it if it were just him I saw…but to have him doing those things…it makes me sick. What the hell does it all mean?"

Leon laid himself down on his stomach next to Claire and propped up on his elbows. He looked down at her thoughtfully. "Well, Claire, I'm not a psychologist or anything…but you're not over Steve's death yet."

Claire snorted. "You think?"

Leon laughed. "Yeah, I know, brilliant analysis right…but it's true…rape's not about sex, Claire, it's about power. Steve has this power over you and he's not even around. You need to move beyond this."

"Yes, I _know_ that. I'm not stupid. But I just…no matter what I do, he pops up."

Leon hesitated for a moment before asking, "…did you…love him or something?"

Claire looked puzzled. "Leon…I…no…I mean, yeah, I cared for him and everything—I felt responsible for him but…I…do you need to be in love with someone to feel bad they died because of you?"

Appearing relieved at her reply but not having time to dwell on it, Leon rushed on to answer her, "Steve didn't die because of you, Claire."

"But—"

"No, listen. Yes, you tried to help him out but ultimately, he was the one responsible for himself. Don't blame yourself. You shouldn't."

"But…I got Sherry out of—"

Leon cut her off. "Sherry was a different story. She was just a little girl. She could barely hold a gun the right way." Seeing that he wasn't getting very far, he tried again with, "It was different."

Claire sighed. "it doesn't seem so different."

Leon exhaled slowly. "I'm not getting anywhere am I? God, I'm sorry…sometimes I can be insensitive."

"No." Claire replied, catching his shoulder before he could make his move to leave. "I know you're right. It's just so hard to deal with this at night. I mean…there are times where I go for days without even thinking about him but…then…this dream comes up and I just feel like…like…"

"Like shit?" Leon asked sympathetically.

"Yes. Exactly." Claire looked at Leon. "You know, it's weird, but I've never told anyone about this before. I actually feel a little better."

Leon smiled. "You ready to go back to sleep?"

"No."

"You want me to leave?"

"No."

A full-blown grin split Leon's face. "Alright then."

There was a sort of disappointment as Claire finished her story.

"That's all?" Sherry asked. "You said your fantasy was about Leon!"

"Wasn't it?" Claire replied impishly.

"No, it seemed like it was about that weird punk you met on that island." Sherry grumbled.

Rebecca sighed.

"What's _your_ damage?" Claire asked her pointedly.

"I don't know. I guess I just expected more from you, that's all."

Claire smiled. She turned to Jill. "How about it, Valentine. You got any flames to throw at me too?"

Jill didn't give any sign that she had heard her but after a few moments shook her head, looking dazed. "What? Oh, I'm sorry, Claire. Yours was just so boring I had to return to Hawaii with Chris."

"Whatever."

The door flew open with a flourish and Chris charged in with Carlos and Leon following behind.

"The barbecue has been finished. Let the feast commence!"

And that was the end of the girl talk…for the time being at least.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five:

After the food had been demolished and the crew was lying around the living room with overstuffed bellies, Claire excused herself to go outside. She sat for a while on the porch swing and looked out at the growing darkness. It was a little after twilight though not quite late enough for the streetlights to come on and the stars were out.

Claire contemplated the topic of the afternoon and laughed to herself.

"What's so funny?" she heard Leon's voice from the side of the porch. She glanced over the railing and saw him gazing up at her.

"Nothing." She replied.

"Ah, I get it. Private jokes." Leon rubbed his hands together vigourously and hoisted himself up and over onto the deck. "Kind of like that stuff you and the girls were giggling about today."

Leaning back and folding her arms in front of her, Claire tried to hide her smile. "So, you figured out we had our little rituals going on, huh?"

"Claire, I had sisters growing up. I've learned that women always have their little rituals going on." He sat himself down next to Claire. "So…any particularly interesting sacrifices made?"

"A few." Claire said, picking a speck of lint off of her sweater.

"Such as?"

Claire shook her head. "Uh-uh. Never share the discussions within the circle with anyone outside—especially a male. Girl Talk rule number one."

Leon scoffed. "Right. When did you ever follow any rules? Come on, you can tell me."

Claire grinned coyly. "Well…there was this one rather interesting topic that we came up with."

"Tell tell." Leon encouraged.

"Rape fantasies."

The sound of crickets became the soundtrack to Leon's silence. He seemed to have frozen in his current position, his eyes were blank and his mouth a thin line.

Finally, like a marionette, he tipped his head up and down, not moving any other part of his body. "Rape fantasies…hmm…that sounds…interesting…okay, where the hell did you come up with that idea? Was it Rebecca? Was it you? Do I have to start monitoring what you read from now on?"

Claire laughed and shook her head. "First of all, it was Sherry's idea. She's doing some project for school—so she says." She quickly added when she saw the look on Leon's face. "And what's the big deal. A lot of people have them—perfectly normal people."

Leon shuddered and gave Claire a weary side way glance.

"Besides, I hardly think you can consider the mess we came up with as rape fantasies. Jill's was about Chris."

"Damn!" Leon grimaced.

"Rebecca's was about Carlos."

"Am I surprised?" Leon mused.

"And Sherry's…well, we never actually got to hear Sherry's…she has it written down somewhere."

"A New York _Times_ bestseller, I'm sure."

"Right."

Leon looked expectantly at Claire.

"What?" she asked.

"And yours?"

"Mine?"

"Yeah, yours. Who do you fantasize about? No wait, let me guess—Harrison Ford, right? No, no wait, Richard Gere? It's one of those old, Hollywood geezers you idolized when you were a girl? Oh, don't tell me it's that loser Bon Jovi."

Claire slapped his arm. "Don't you ever talk that way about Bon Jovi! I won't have it."

Leon puffed his chest up. "I could kick that guy's ass any day of the week."

"I know." Claire replied, taking a deep breath and steeling herself. "That's why my fantasy was about you."

Again, Leon was shocked into silence. He became a marionette again, his head bobbing up and down only slower this time. "About me?" he repeated. "Oh…that's…that's a surprise alright…" he paused. "About me? Why?"

Claire stifled a giggle and shrugged. Before she spoke she wondered if maybe she were drunk, what other excuse would she have for spilling out these private, personal details she had sworn to secrecy? But then again, no alcohol had touched her lips that day.

"I guess…because you're just about the sweetest guy I've ever met."

"So you think I would RAPE you!" Leon exploded.

Claire flinched; she hadn't known he would take it like that.

"No! No, of course not. I didn't say you raped me, I just said…oh, forget it."

Thinking Leon would get up and go into the house, never again to bring up this subject again, Claire turned away and smarted inwardly. What had gotten into her? She would never before have allowed her feelings to come to the surface. Had the afternoon's talk somehow shed her of her inhibitions—or just made her clinically insane?

"Soo…" Leon continued conversationally. "What _did_ you tell the others?"

Claire turned back to Leon. His expression was soft and understanding if a little unsettled by the content of the moment. He also seemed genuinely interested in what she had said about him.

"Oh, it was nothing. No, no really it was. The girls were completely disappointed in me. They thought I could do better."

"Try me." Leon told her.

"Well…you know how…how I used to have those nightmares about Steve?"

Leon tried to appear neutral at the mention of Steve's name but nodded. "How could I forget?"

"Right…well…I told them about that…and how…how you were always there to comfort me and hold me until it was over. You really always made me feel so…safe…"

Leon nodded. "And?"

"And? And what?" Claire asked. "We went at it like two dogs in heat—what do you think, Leon? I mean, really?"

"Sorry. Sorry." Leon apologized. "I guess I just…I kind of expected more from you."

"Ha ha. That's what Rebecca said."

"Yeah, well, Rebecca's—"

"An idiot? No, she's not, Leon. Well…not completely."

More crickets chirping filled the air and Claire glanced up at the night sky, found the brightest star, and wished for something to break the silence. She expected something along the lines of Chris bursting out and making some stupid announcement or even one of the girls to find the two of them and grin like Cheshire cats. However, she got something a bit more pleasant.

She felt a hand on her knee and when she glanced back to Leon she saw he was smiling warmly.

"Yes?" she asked more tensely than she had intended.

"Oh, nothing. I just wanted to say that…I'm flattered, I guess."

"Even if my fantasy is boring and you're not some dark clad character in a S&M game?"

Leon laughed. " _Especially_ that I'm not that."

He bit his bottom lip and shrugged his shoulders. "I guess now is as good a time as any."

"To what?"

"To take the advice Carlos and your brother gave today."

"Oh? And what advice was that?" Claire asked.

Without saying anything, Leon leaned in and gave Claire a small kiss on the lips. Then another. And another. Until Claire realized what it meant, that the once in a lifetime clash of shared emotions had come along and kissed him back.

"Wow." She said when they pulled away. "Chris and Carlos told you to do that?"

"Well…Carlos mostly. Chris kind of grunted and gave a do-what-you're-gonna-do look."

"So you and the boys were outside having some male bonding time?"

"It wasn't any more eventful than your girl talk." Leon told her playfully, pulling her into his arms. "Of course that's probably another story altogether."

Note: Well, it's finally done. Sorry for the delay in the chapters. I've been a little busy with other writing projects. One in particular that I'm thinking of—then again, people are probably getting a little tired of Leon/Claire stories from me so we'll see.

Special thanks to my reviewers who stuck with this story (despite the controversy, though I appreciated all reviews both favourable and not so favourable. I understand and respect that everyone has an opinion)

**Nesza**, **Angel Himura, The Evil One!#$&(), Santiago, Skye Wesker, 007, V, Marching Madly Onward, Crimson Bandit, Clinton, The Devil, SOB, Bad Guy, HELL, Skyle, Hotaru, Break the Silence, she's so fou, Overshadowed Malice, **and** Shadow of Neph **and everyone who reviewed as Unknown.

Man, I hope I got everyone. If I left you out, I'm really sorry I was just going down the list and my eyes (out of exhaustion) aren't working properly.


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